


The Cracks in Your Armor

by CastleGachi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M, No editing we die like mne, Pre-Slash, lets just accept that, they're both weird ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 15:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastleGachi/pseuds/CastleGachi
Summary: Deidara contemplates his attraction to a certain Uchiha.





	The Cracks in Your Armor

**Author's Note:**

> This was me testing out Deidara's POV so please ENJOY, and don't expect anything quality from me MWAH

It was an awfully peaceful day, critters skittered and the sun beamed, and Deidara was sick of it. He was drenched in wet mud, fatigued and chakra-exhausted, and probably a few minutes from collapsing face down in the little shade the one rock in this wasteland that was Wind Country provided, and – _AND_ – he'd lost an entire bag of chakra-infused clay three days back.

He wanted clean clothes and to sleep, he needed food – solider pills, a damn scorpion to starve off the dizziness, and he didn't need the humiliation of falling face first before the damned Uchiha did. Course Uchiha barely looked scuffed.

He looked bloodied and muddied and, probably, more exhausted than usual but no less of a constrained mess than usual, no less insufferable, no less begging for a kick in the perfect teeth of his stupid, handsome face –

"Deidara-san…" Uchiha intoned, voice always impossibly deep and soft, and Deidara did not trust it, "You're glowering at me again." Hell yeah he was, and Uchiha deserved every damn second of it.

Considering Deidara can empathetically state that every infuriating, irritating and mildly uncomfortable thing that'd happened to him in the past five years (since he was forced to join this goddamned organization) was because of Uchiha.

He'd used his stupid and perfect sharingan, blown away Deidara's perceptions and now –

_Now_ he's only just finished a three-week mission with the asshole, that'd ended with a three-day chase from weak Suna ninja he hadn't even had the liberty to satisfyingly blow up because his clay-pouch had been torn off in damned hand to hand combat in a mission assigned to him _and Uchiha_ by their terribly terrifying leader who's worse than his damned Jiji about playing nice!

"We should stop here," and Uchiha sidetracked behind a dune, a small enclosure of rocks protecting them from the worst of the sunlight. He isn't a big enough idiot to stay out in this sunlight to satisfy his own pettiness, so he grumblingly followed, and plodded onto boiling sandstone, carefully tucking all his extremities into the little shade.

Uchiha gulped heavily from his water canteen, throat bobbed, a single burst of survival so pure and clear it had Deidara fixated, and then handed Deidara the bottle, "Drink," he ordered. There is sweat on his upper lip and on his forehead, and Deidara sighed and took the bottle.

He'd lost his own with his left clay-pouch, it was specifically designed with seals to be self-replenishing, and he'd probably have to bargain an internal organ with Kakuzu to have another delivered to him. He absently swiped the nozzle, and swallowed the cool water until his stomach began to rebel.

Deidara planted the canteen into a hill of sand, undid the muddied cloak he'd stolen after his own had been blown off, and stretched, as Itachi undid his boots and shook out the sand. He must be more exhausted than he looked, not even using chakra to walk on-top of the sand.

Deidara leaned back into uncomfortable rock, his chakra a dim murmur inside himself, and outstretched his boots into Uchiha's half of their temporary shelter – and smirked at the absent side-eye he received, as Uchiha redid his ponytail with long and calloused hands.

It's almost pleasant, the few times Uchiha did a human action, a stark contrast to everything else Uchiha did. It was exactly why Deidara had been so disturbed at what he'd noticed, thought he'd made himself delusional, let the stress of the job and lack of artistic pursuit go to his head, let his impatient mind drag him from the reality of the situation but, no –

He somewhat leaned into Uchiha's space, head to hand and hand to knee, and tilted his head in a self-satisfied smirk, because he already knew the damn answer, "You really hate the job, don't you, huh?" Deidara said, beatifically blinked.

For a moment – only for a moment – Uchiha's hands stilled, still silky black locks dripped off his knobby knuckles and wrist, an almost impressive furrow between his dark brows, and then he blanked and continued – like Deidara had been a faint buzz that'd disappeared – but Deidara's vindication marked that response as enough.

It was the damned truth, and Deidara wanted to see it unearthed.

His head tilted to still have the majority of Uchiha's face in his sights, "I noticed it on that first mission of ours, yeah, I held the compound hostage while your eyes made a name for you, getting the information we needed –" he scoffed, and Uchiha definitively tied off his hair, " – and when you were finished you had this look, yeah…"

It's such a vibrant memory, the thrum of excitement of bombs stashed, the humidity clinging to his forehead, faint terror in the faces of many as they began to comprehend what would happen, the leader of the compound had fallen, Deidara had swiveled his head, and there –

Uchiha had turned skyward. This unbearable expression of anguish and grief, something that could've been horror tightened his chapped lips, all tempered in the sudden rays of dawn sunlight and –

Deidara had been…floored, astonished, confounded. The image had fired off into his brain, like he'd found a new artistic medium – more like he'd noticed the exuberant potential in a previously dismissed one, and – well, he'd been fascinated ever since.

Something Uchiha had definitely noticed, but he hadn't tried to kill Deidara over it so –

And that lack of lethality was also weird. Sasori once poisoned him for bumping into a puppet – he hadn't even been in it! They're the Akatsuki for damned sake, penchant for high-leveled shinobi who excelled at death, all with their own (allegedly) unhinged flare to it, and then there is Uchiha…

He almost seemed…pained at those dead by his sword.

The canteen sloshed as Uchiha knocked it on Deidara's knuckles, "You should drink. If you're hallucinating," Uchiha hummed, straight-faced and blank-eyed, and Deidara eye-rolled, but took it. He might've drooled a little, and it's the literal desert, and the Uchiha's an asshole, who would've guessed?

"I'm only drinking this because I'm thirsty, yeah," Deidara mumbled.

He nearly missed the gently curved smile, the almost-amusement in the annoyingly stern façade, a glimpse of the almost-human hidden underneath the unbearable mask – and his heart stuttered and sped, and Deidara shakily huffed. Damn it.

He swallowed a few mouthfuls, set the water canteen down and relaxed back into sandstone as the torturous sun drifted into the horizon. It was a silent few hours, which he spent peeking out from beneath his lids every few minutes, and replenishing the worst of their chakra.

Their intended safehouse was a day's walk northwest, deep in the tall and thin trees that made up the Land of Woods, the toothpicks of giants, and they're both in dire need of a bath and uninterrupted sleep – so obviously Uchiha drifts into the nearby civilian town. "Seriously Uchiha…" Deidara groaned into a slouch, and Uchiha ignored him.

He could've walked to the safehouse by himself but Leader-Sama would've (probably) been pissed if he'd left his partner without a good reason. Leader didn't approve of any disdaining actions – so Deidara dragged himself into town. It was civilian, low-threat and sections were dirt-poor, all outsiders only welcome for their coin.

Just passed the marketplace Deidara found Uchiha, a bag hanging off his thin wrist, slightly hunched to hand out boxes of dumplings to the street kids, and an elderly homeless man tucked onto a dingy blanket. He had the most –

His features had the most emotion Deidara had ever witnessed from Uchiha, a secret that bedazzled for only a moment in the light before it's spirited off, it was…extraordinary, and it made Deidara's demented heart full. Uchiha blankly looked up at Deidara, and the kids desperate chatter petered off.

Deidara sighed, took the last dumpling box from Uchiha's stiff hand, and crouched to hand it to the smallest kid who hadn't received one yet, half-hidden behind the elderly man. "Itadikimasu, yeah," Deidara huffed at the kid, and grabbed Uchiha's wrist on the uptake, his wrist is thin and delicate-skinned, dragging him a few paces to get him to move out, "You better have left some for us, yeah?"

Uchiha stared forward, as if imprisoned, and lifted the bag that still hung heavy from his wrist. Deidara approvingly hummed. The birds tweeted and chirped, and Deidara felt eyes on him, but Uchiha was only stiffly looking forward, as always.

Deidara didn't know how to tell Uchiha that the contempt he felt had transfigured into fascination, the fascination into something so painfully close to endearment that it made Deidara feel full. The blank mask was a façade, a cage Uchiha no longer tried to escape, but sometimes, between the bars –

Deidara found a kami that simultaneously soothed him, and made it hard to breathe. Uchiha felt _real_ in a way little else did in comparison to his art, and the terror that alien sensation induced was…Exhilarating. Uchiha is a masterpiece trapped inside a lifeless cocoon, and it was so damn stupid but each fissure in that box made Deidara's heart sing.

The sky hued a purplish orange and from in between the toothpicks of giants, the last of the defensive wards toppled, snapping back to life as they stepped into the near-debilitated safehouse. Deidara jumped past the debris, threw out a hand, "Night Uchiha –" and clambered the creaky stairwell, as Uchiha turned into the kitchen.

Just because Uchiha felt like an intrinsic part of his heart – didn't mean he'd act on it. It wasn't like he's afraid, life is short, anything and everything worthwhile ended, usually abruptly and in a fiery explosion, and it became art; art in the sudden death of life.

It was his philosophy, his life's work. If he denied the whicker to the match forever in his hand, then maybe the build-up would be longer, and when it finally imploded, it'd burn brighter, hit harder, implode larger and larger until everyone felt what he did.

The truth of a man faced with the knowledge that he is tiny in comparison to the world, a blimp of life in an endless battle, a flicker of awe and horror and terror so intense it _became the world_ for that single moment, and then – it's finished, gone forever, and no one is the same. 

One day Uchiha would fully implode – not now though, so maybe Deidara is losing his artistic vision, his credence. Maybe he's just tired from a long mission. He haphazardly showers, slouches beneath the harsh stream, and tucks into the dusty bed of the nearest bedroom. He settles almost instantly, curled around a pillow and burrows his head underneath it.

The missions take Deidara across the continent, and Sasori continues to be a stubborn bastard and not understand the truth. He is poisoned five separate times – but by the end of each sick leave he is immune, so this might be Sasori's attempt at thoughtfulness – and nearly loses his arm to a huge bird summon that Leader-Sama had wanted them to collect.

It is dead winter in Grass Country so todays a rare day of sunlight, it'd hailed last night (when he and Danna arrived) but it's only a damp right now, so Deidara is underneath the porch, with clumps of clay, his travel tools, and half-assed creations waddling about as he re-trains his injured hand to sculpt as it should.

The door clicked, Deidara's hand opened – it's his preferred stylized owl, if slightly wonky – and he itches at his chest mouth. The porch bench creaks as Uchiha's compounded chakra settles, book paper crinkled. He's not going to let Uchiha ruin his damned flow. So he absently sculpts with a wire ended tool, distractedly humming as birds chirped and pages rustle, a deer peeks out from the underbrush and Deidara absently begins to sculpt the unimpressed creature.

Art always has a way of blanking his brain, he feels relaxed and satisfied and, almost, peaceful –

"Deidara…" Uchiha intoned, voice as deep and soft as always, and Deidara's heart leapt. He fixed an uninterested scowl over his shoulder, and it dissolves into a smirk. Uchiha's dark eyes blinked, bottomless and unfathomable, a kami peeking out, "Call it off," he asked.

The clay owl diligently attempted to scale the bench, it ruffled it's feathers in frustration, silently squawked, indignant as it jumped for where Uchiha had tucked himself. It limped and swayed from an uneven mold but Deidara didn't mind it nearly as much as it once had. "Scared, Uchiha?" Deidara smirked.

It's probably a lazy day hallucination but Uchiha visibly mulled, "Irritated," Uchiha corrected. Deidara cocked his smirk higher, absently feeling out the curves in his newest creation, and Uchiha arched a brow, "Deidara –"

"So, who managed a hit on the great Uchiha Itachi, huh?" Deidara thumbed at the bandages peeking beneath Uchiha's shirt. The nubby-footed deer in his hand clicked its heels as Deidara distractedly rolled its head into place.

Uchiha blankly eyed Deidara, "…looking for inspiration?"

Deidara snickered.

"Always –" his teeth bared, and swiveled his wrist to curve a delicate antler with the tool, " – come on, Uchiha. When I beat you, I won't be by using someone else's soulless tricks, yeah. I'm an artist, yeah, and it'll be my art that beats you – nothing else," Deidara hisses, and licks back drool with a (perhaps) slightly crazed grin.

The look is distinctly unimpressed, pupils somehow blown, and Deidara's heart hasn't stopped the abrupt thunder in his chest. Uchiha pointedly returns to his book but his head is tilted. The book more a shield as he contemplates. Deidara shifts back to his creation, an antler wonky and the deer has skedaddled.

"It's from breakfast…" Uchiha said.

"Huh?" Deidara distractedly hums, the antler is more delicate than his usual creations, he's contemplating scrapping and trying a rounder form when –

"It's from breakfast," he repeated, still absentminded, a weather forecast to be told, "The eggs we ate were heavily guarded by a protective mother chicken," and then he turned a page of his book like he'd hadn't spouted absolute zilch.

Deidara cocked his head and swiveled, knee hitched, and found Uchiha's utterly stoic features, "The Infamous Uchiha bested by a chicken?" he rounded. Is this the Uchiha's attempt at a joke?

Uchiha nodded, black stare fixated on Deidara, like he's spot-lit in a dark room to an audience of a judgmental leader. "Everything has a weakness," he murmurs, stare unforgiving, is that a threat? Figures Deidara likes the thrill.

"And yours is a feathered biped?" Uchiha took a pointed look at the owl still silently squawking by his feet – Deidara startles at his own sudden laughter. Man, who knew Uchiha had…anything in him. He did – fucking damn, he did. "Alright, Uchiha –

" – should've guarded that secret better, huh. I might get ideas, yeah," he flickered a hand, and the owl robotically waddled to him. He kept his teeth bared, a sharp grin, less Uchiha get any ideas that Deidara was being chummy.

Uchiha arched a brow, unimpressed and pointed, so clear in intention that it made Deidara flush from chest upward. "Why?" Uchiha wondered, "Is it that bad?" Deidara licks an abruptly dry mouth. Ask absolutely anyone, and they'd consider everything Deidara deemed worthwhile as half-brained, demented, frustrating and a flat-out a bad idea.

But his dark stare is fixated and faintly calculated, it burned into Deidara's soul, like chemical explosives tingling through overworked protective gloves, destined to consume him fingertips to heart. Deidara reflexively swallowed. 

He really must be delusional because there is something almost soft in Uchiha's terribly handsome features, "You're always so alive when your inspired," he murmured, almost breath-taken.

Damn.

Uchiha rapidly blinked. Fuck. Fuck. Damn.

Even after months of not being able to just watch him, Deidara can tell he sort of looks panicked, like he hadn't intended to say that – and Deidara seizes that to drag himself back from his own precipice.

He tilted his head, ignored his own flustered cheeks to find Uchiha's before he just happened to hide it behind his book. Deidara is either hallucinating this entire deal or – "You're on pretty heavy painkillers right now, aren't you?"

Look Uchiha is bandaged – so, injured – and his dark fathomless pupils have been…whoopy, and it made more sense than Uchiha's sudden ability to spout human sentiments.

"No," Uchiha deadpanned.

"Really, huh? You're not drugged to your gills right now?"

"No." That was such a huge fucking lie.

The book stoically remained higher but Deidara had seen that flushed cheek. His contemplation lopsided into a snickered smile, and Deidara shuffled into a stand.

Uchiha hadn't stiffened but Deidara felt watched.

He propped himself to study Uchiha, over the black covered book – it made Deidara loom as Uchiha remained cradled; an honest threat – but, in an unabashed stare of slightly too-large pupils, Uchiha studied his features, somewhat cocked to appraise behind the curtain of blond.

His skin pebbled, heart abruptly thundered, the heat off Uchiha's skin brushed at Deidara's throat – but he bared his teeth in an unaffected grin, "You're a shitty liar, Uchiha. But that sweet talk won't stop me from beating you," his fists clenched, the contradiction of want and frustration swirled, and became a warm pit in his stomach.

Uchiha's terribly human face hummed in a smile, "You're not the first to try…" he mumbled, a parody of a taunt. His mouth was an awful sight, and Deidara masked a thick swallow to knock his forehead, hard, into Uchiha's. The dazed blacks startled wide, a brief hitch of breath hissed on Deidara's mouth, hair tickled his forehead, and he savagely grinned:

"But I am the closest, aren't I, yeah?"

The blacks twinkled in constellations, side-effect of the drugs (probably), his skin burned at the contact, the breaths tasted minty and medicinal, and Deidara's heart thundered, a climax abound. The savage grin strengthened and lengthened, foretold an explosive death, and –

The soft black lashes fluttered closed, a faint affirmative hum, like a feline satisfied with his lot in life, an accepting beckon to the threat –

Deidara yanked himself back with a harsh scowl, cheeks flustered, and the dark lashes fluttered, face softened by a tiny smile – "You’re crazy, huh?” Deidara breathed out, unwillingly charmed.

He stomped to the front door and Uchiha hummed, "Then what does that make you?" Deidara's cheeks are still flushed, his blood ran exhilarated and thrilled, his heart thunders; more alive than he’s ever been without a near-death implosion. He slams the front door behind him. It made him a damned idiot, that’s what.

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying my hand at romance how yall feel?  
talk to me on my [creative tumblr](https://castlegachi.tumblr.com/) or my [main](https://imblessedtoexist.tumblr.com/)


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